


A Slip Out of Time

by sambethe



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 01:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17397566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sambethe/pseuds/sambethe
Summary: Step on the boat. Get the data chip from him. Leave one in return. Go.Simple enough, right?Right.If only things were simple. If only their futures could take a moment and not look so different.





	A Slip Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing like starting a fic in February 2017 and then letting it languish for a year before finishing it. Oops. But nothing like the threat of a new season of canon to compel you to finish it. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> As always, feel free to swing by [tumblr](http://sambethe.rumblr.com) or [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/sambethe) to chat!

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you? I’d be happy to…”

Tilly trailed off and the two of them stood at the end of the dock. Michael felt rooted to the spot, resisting the urge to curl her fingers around the cuffs of her tunic, to slip them beneath to run along the length of rope tied around her left wrist. 

She could do this. A simple step forward on the wood planking. Mere meters to the 18th slip, as instructed. 

Why was she still standing here?

It was a simple mission. A brief intelligence swap. If she could just compel her feet to move forward, she could nearly be done and back at their lodging, curled up in a chair with a book and a cup of tea. This was certainly nowhere near a harrowing mission. At least nothing that deserved this level of trepidation.

Her classmates back on Vulcan would sneer if they could see her in this moment.  

Michael tried to remind herself she no longer cared.

While she stared off at the water, Tilly continued to fidget at her side. Michael could feel each of her movements, every shift of her weight to her right foot, then left foot, before she started the pattern anew. Tilly clasped her hands behind her back and then let them fall to her side, only to then turn to adjust her ponytail for the third time since they had arrived at the dock. Each slide of the fabric of Tilly’s clothing sounded deafening over the quiet lap of the water beneath their feet.

The harbor that stretched before them seemed impossibly still by comparison. The glint of the water, tinted almost violet in the bright afternoon sun, was the only outward sign of the currents running deep below. It was a perfect, tranquil spot. She could understand why, of all the options in this sector, Ash picked this spot. 

In any other time, and any other place.

If they were any other two people...

Michael reached out and clasped her hand over Tilly’s, stilling her movements. She was grateful for her offer, more than she had means to express. The two of them had spent the morning wandering market stalls, playing tourist as a means to disguise their intended purpose -- the swap of data discs and allowing Stamets and his team time to locate another cache of samples. As much as she might want to accept, Michael knew she could delay no further or send Tilly in her stead. 

She paused one more beat before stating the obvious. “I’ve delayed long enough.” 

Tilly shook her head. “I don’t mind. Really. Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a sailboat. It would be fun to --”

“I’ll be fine.” Michael squeezed Tilly’s hand, hoping the gesture would be reassurance enough, afraid that anything more might betray the tremor in her hand. “I can handle this. Besides, Lt. Commander Stamets is expecting you.”

“Right,” Tilly said with an emphatic nod of her chin. “Straight intel swap, nothing more.” She nodded again to herself and then looked at Michael. “You promise to be back at the hotel before sunset?”

Michael gave her a smile she didn’t quite feel. “Of course. I should be here no more than an hour. There will be plenty of daylight remaining for me to return, and I will meet you and the rest of the team at the rendezvous tomorrow at 16:00.” 

She squeezed Tilly’s hand one more time before letting go and taking a step forward. It wasn’t until she was about a third of the way down the dock that she heard Tilly call out behind her. 

“Tell Ash I miss his face in real time.”

Michael didn’t turn, but nodded just the same. Whether it was for her own benefit or Tilly’s, she wasn’t quite sure.

*

He looked good.

She almost hated that that was her first thought upon catching sight of him on the deck. He’d grown a beard and his hair was long. It appeared that it had been months since he last cut it. Most of it was gathered back in a ridiculous knot, though a few pieces had escaped in the front and curled around his temples. It should not be something Michael found endearing --  _ attractive _ \-- and yet.

Amanda would laugh if she were here to witness this moment.

He was still lanky, his frame deceptively slight in the t-shirt and loose pants he wore. Her attention snagged on the flex of his biceps and the curl of his fingers as he coiled a length of rope. His skin looked soft, tanner than she’d have expected after eight months of living on Qo'noS. Michael also sort of hated, and not, that she noticed that as well. More importantly, though, the drawn quality she remembered to his face when she had last seen him had faded. She was glad for that, even as she still hesitated to call out to him.

And maybe she hesitated because of it.

Despite the hair, he looked so much like the man she had come to know before they stepped on board the mirror Shenzhou. Had she expected something different? Seeing him here, she suspected that she had hoped something about him would be tangibly different. 

All of this would be easier if he were. 

_ I see you, Ash. _

She meant those words when she had uttered them. She still did. 

But it did not mean that the truth of them, or her jumbled emotions surrounding them, had gotten any easier to process in the intervening months. 

And being here now, with him standing only meters away? It simultaneously felt like years had passed and no time at all. Time had stretched and contracted, and stretched again, only to land her here in this moment -- paralyzed in way that was becoming uncomfortably familiar to her.

Before she could make a decision, time contracted again and Ash turned and offered her a small, half-smile as he leaned back on the bow’s railing. “You going to stand there all afternoon, Commander?”

Michael wanted to bristle, or maybe to wipe the smug look from his face, but then he bit down on his lower lip as he swept his gaze from her face down to her feet. By the time he focused once again on her face she’d almost forgotten all the reasons why she should be angry with him.

Why she should not trust him.

And yet, it was him.  _ Ash._

“So you heard?”

“Kind of hard to miss the news. Even on the edge of space.”

She nodded out to the water. “I’d hardly call this the edge of the galaxy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Perhaps I do.” She shrugged. “Permission to come aboard,  _ Captain?”_

Ash’s smile turned sly and it warmed her chest. Michael wanted to scold herself, chant reminders of all the ways this feeling was wrong. There were still so many things to say, so much left unresolved. 

“Just through tonight,” he said, interrupting her rambling thoughts. He ran his hand along the smooth brass railing before taking a step toward her. “Tomorrow she’ll be returned to her rightful captain.”

Michael took a breath.  _ Step on the boat. Get the data chip from him. Leave one in return. Go. _ Simple enough, right?

_ Right. _

Ash offered her a hand as she stepped over the lip at the top of the plank and climbed over the edge. He held her hand until she steadied, his thumb running along the side of her own all the while. There should not be so much comfort in so small a gesture, but in these last couple of years her life seemed to be consist of nothing more than a series of events that should not be. 

“Come sit.” He gestured to the bow. “As the afternoon light fades, the water turns a deeper shade of purple. You should stay and watch.” 

Not waiting to see if she followed, he made his way back toward the bow, holding his hand out behind him as he did. Whether he didn’t notice her hesitation, or chose to ignore it, Michael wasn’t entirely sure. Deciding she didn’t care, she took his proffered hand and followed him to the front of the ship. 

They sat in silence for a while, him sitting cross-legged beside her as she swung her feet over the side. It was nice. Peaceful. Any of the turmoil she had felt faded with the each sway of ship beneath her. 

That and the fact Ash hadn’t let go of her hand.

Michael used her free hand to rustle in the pocket where she’d stored the chip Admiral Cornwell had provided. “This is for you.” She held it out to him and he pocketed it with a nod.

With that done, she should ask about the one he promised in return. Instead, she studied the side of his face. His beard was full. In the abstract, it wasn’t something she’d have thought she’d like, but was surprised at how tempting she found it. She itched to feel the short hair beneath her fingertips. And though she knew she shouldn’t, she followed the impulse, reaching out and tracing the backs of her knuckles along his jaw. 

It tickled, and scratched. She stretched and curled her fingers, dragging her nails as she explored. Ash closed his eyes as she did, tilting his head to press her hand closer to him. It lit something low and warm in her belly. 

“Michael,” he whispered.

She smiled and continued her exploration, brushing up his jaw and down along his ear. Threading her fingers into his hair, she spread them just enough to loosen the tie that held the longer strands back. His hair was soft as it hit the back of her hand and she pushed her fingers deeper, enjoying the play of it against her skin. She wondered if it smelled like him, or if it was more like whatever shampoo he used now. 

She leaned in, brushing her lips at the corner of his mouth before trailing her nose along his jaw. She took a breath when she reached his temple. The scent that greeted her was some combination of him, soap, sweat, and the salt that permeated the air around them. It made her heart trip and beat out an even thrum all at once.

The hand holding hers tightened and his other cupped the back of her head, leaning her into him as he rubbed his cheek against hers. “Michael,” he repeated and drew his mouth down the column of her throat. She tipped her head back, granting him further access as he left a series of lingering kisses that sent lightening along every nerve in her arms and up her spine. 

When he finally pulled back, she felt dismayed and relieved in equal terms. He hadn’t even kissed her properly and she was wrecked. Ruined. She should leave now. Stick to the plan. Run. 

She should kiss him for real. 

Finally glancing over to him, she found his eyes watching her. He wore a shell-shocked expression that she knew mirrored her own. He bit at his lip and looked like he was searching for words to make sense of whatever lay between them. 

There was so much to say. 

There would never be enough time.

Not wanting him to get those words out, to talk them out of what they were about to do, she leaned in and swept her lips across his. It was a barely there wisp of a thing, but Ash didn’t hesitate to kiss her back. His mouth followed hers, drawing her slowly to him. She went, bringing her legs up beneath her, and cupped his chin. Their kiss deepened, her tongue sliding against his as she slipped into his lap, shifting her hands from his face to wind her arms around his neck. 

Ash’s hands settled at her waist, his thumbs sweeping and circling along the fabric of her tunic.  The slow movements left her wishing she’d worn something less sensible, wishing to feel his hands on her through something thinner. Wishing to feel him touch her. Lost in the feel of him, the taste him, as well as memories of him moving against her, she hadn’t noticed her own hands slide beneath is t-shirt until she was raking her nails up and down his back. 

He broke their kiss and groaned, before pulling her up to stand with him. “You should follow me.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he turned. She followed in the wake  of his long strides, watching him jump down the narrow hatch. She climbed down the ladder face forward. He watched her descend, waiting until her foot hit the last step before crowding in and pressing her against the rails. Michael smiled as he kissed her again, losing herself in the familiar taste of him. He dragged his mouth from hers, turning his attention to her neck as his hands moved to grasp hers, holding them back against the rails as he rocked into her.

She let her head fall back, resting it against the ladder as he worked at the base of her throat. He sighed when the stiff fabric of her collar wouldn’t give to allow him to press further. 

“Too many clothes,” he murmured.

Michael laughed and tugged her arms, silently asking him to release her wrists. He did and stepped back, watching her as she bent her leg and used her foot to push herself from the ladder. She reveled in the way his breath seemed to hitch, his whole chest shuddering as she crossed her arms in front of herself and tugged at the hem of her tunic. She pulled it over her head and dropped it to the floor, keeping her eyes locked to his as she did. 

Left her in her bra and a pair of leggings, she warmed when he finally broke contact and raked his eyes over her. His eyes seemed to trail down her stomach and to her legs. She toed off her boots as his attention moved back up and then down her arms. She knew the moment he caught sight of her now bared wrist and the rope that wrapped around it. He stilled and seemed to hold his breath.

Michael had slipped open the bowline knot months ago. Tilly had helped her fashion a small, gold bracing to hold the ends together. To anyone else it would seem inconsequential, nothing more than an odd choice in bracelet. 

To Ash though, he would know what it was. What it meant.

His eyes still caught on her wrist, Ash reached for her. She let him take her hand, standing stock still as he wrapped his fingers around it, slowly dragging them down until they hit the rope. He slid his thumb along the rough twine and slipped his middle finger between it and the skin of the underside of her wrist. She couldn’t tear her eyes from where his finger played along her skin. Time seemed to stop and everything around them faded. Everything except for the skittering heat of the pad of his finger on her skin, each brush echoing and thrumming through her in staccato. 

His free hand caught her chin and tipped her head back, forcing her to look up at him. “You kept it.”

She nodded. 

Something flared in his eyes, the gold flecks in his deep brown eyes catching on the low light of the cabin. Before she could put words to what it was, he dropped his hands to her waist and spun them around, walking her backwards a few steps. Her calves hit a low couch and she tumbled back into it. He fell with her, the two of them laughing as he pushed himself up and stared down at her. She touched his cheek, her thumb brushing at the way his mouth crinkled with his laughter. He was much too tall for the cramped space to be comfortable, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Michael smiled at him and he smiled back before lowering his mouth to her belly, kissing along the waistband of her leggings. She tensed when he bit at that particular stretch of skin at the top of her hip bone, trying to hold her breath before she dissolved into another fit of laughter. 

“I love that.” He grinned up at her as he traced along the goosebumps he had raised on her skin. “The fact that you’re ticklish.”

She tried to school her face into her best impression of an imperious Vulcan and raised one eyebrow at him. “Why?” 

“Because you’re still willing to show me that. And because it’s something no one else knows about you.” He shook his head and returned his attention to her leggings, prodding her to lift her hips as he slid his hands beneath the tight fabric. He stripped her of both them and her underwear as he went, sitting back on his knees in front of her once he dropped them to his side. 

She bit back a sigh when his dragged his hands up her bare legs, spreading her open to him as he went. She had the errant thought that maybe she should even the score some, reach out and strip him of his shirt. She wanted the chance to run her fingers through the hair on his chest, to watch the flex of his muscle with each of his movements, but all thought was lost with the first touch of his tongue to her.

He took his time, long, savoring licks and teasing flicks of his tongue along every inch of her sensitive skin. Part of her wished she could say that she had forgotten how good he was at this, at pulling each moan from her lips, at driving a barrage of sensation along her limbs. But it would be a lie. Even at the worst between them, her brain had refused to let go of those memories.

Not sure what that might say about her, she shut her eyes and pushed away any thoughts besides those of the here and now. She tangled her hands in his over-long hair, tugging him close and begging him to finish it. Instead, he pulled away gently. She bit back a cry -- frustrated by both his having stopped and the way his breath played across her skin. 

“Did you want something?”

She opened an eye and found him grinning at her, his tongue playing at the edge of his lip. Michael warred with the dual want to kick him and pull him back toward where she wanted him. Instead, she murmured his name and felt a tiny flicker of victory when his eyes went heavy-lidded and he gave a quiet groan. 

If she thought him a man with purpose minutes ago, it was nothing on how he set himself to work now. She could barely focus as his mouth found her, his fingers joining in the onslaught. He worked them together in quiet insistence, drawing her body back to the edge with an ease she wouldn’t have thought possible. She reached behind herself, gripping at the top of the couch as her release finally washed over her, her arm tensing in an effort to keep herself from slipping off the narrow cushion. 

When she finally collected herself and her breath, it was to find Ash resting his head on her thigh, one hand drawing slow, soothing circles on her other. He was still fully dressed, but his hair was a rumpled riot of tangles and curls. His mouth morphed into a grin as he caught her staring. 

“Come here,” she whispered. She felt a flare of pride as his face went slack. She sat up and removed her bra before reaching for him, slipping her hands beneath his shirt and tugging it over his head. She made quick work of his belt and opened his pants, enjoying his deep draw of breath when her hand slid over his erection.  

Using his distraction, she nudged him around, pushing until he was seated on the couch. Sliding into his lap, she captured his mouth in a searing kiss. When she finally pulled back, she reached down to grasp him, adjusting her hips to line him at her entrance. He gasped as she began to sink down on him, taking him slowly, waiting as her body to adjusted and stretched around him each torturous inch. 

Finally,  _ finally,  _ he was fully seated within her and she looked down at him. His head was tipped back, resting on the edge of the couch behind him, his eyes steady on her face. He offered her a small smile and she arched against him, raising her hips just a fraction before settling back down again. Ash hummed and wrapped his hands around her hips, guiding her through another slow, shallow thrust. 

She moved her hands to his shoulders, extending and stretching her fingers to allow just the palms of her hands to play over the soft skin there before taking her time to trail down his arms, following the languid pace he set with her. Ash bent forward and she leaned in, resting her forehead against his. She closed her eyes and matched his breathing, and when he finally covered her mouth with his, everything within her felt as though it were on fire, her pleasure gathering and settling at the base of her spine. She picked up their pace, thrusting harder, chasing the feeling that began to spread throughout her. 

She felt his stuttering breath when he finally came and with another roll of her hips, pressing her clit against his pelvic bone, she followed him.

The cabin felt quiet around them as they both caught their breath. It was a peaceful sort of stillness, devoid of any of the awkwardness she had anticipated. Michael chose to take a moment and not question it, falling against Ash and taking comfort in the feel of his sweat-slicked skin against her own.

*

Michael squinted and took a quick glance around the room. The light filtering through the portholes running the length of the hull had taken on a deeper, more golden quality. She could feel Ash behind her, his chest rising and falling steadily against her back. She wondered how long they had lain there. Her arm ached from where she’d fallen asleep on it, but she felt more rested than she probably had right to given the narrow couch they were curled on. 

Ash’s hand rested against her stomach. He was awake, his fingers curling and uncurling, the tips of them dragging in a slow, steady wave against her skin. It left Michael feeling light and comforted, and more than a little fuzzy around the edges. It was nice. Normal. She had missed this. Missed them.

And here she had once thought she would be the only reason they couldn’t have this.

She let out a deep breath. She was so tired of regret. Of fear. 

Ash moved, adjusting to allow Michael the space to turn over. Once she settled back in, he brought his hand to her face, tracing along her jaw before cupping her cheek. 

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning in, his nose a hair’s breadth her own. 

Her eyes caught on his mouth. It was so familiar. She had loved those lips so much -- his smiles, the teasing smirks they could form, the way his teeth would snag on them when he looked at her just so. And yet her brain still stuttered and faltered on images of those same lips forming Klingon so fluently. How the voice she thought she knew so well deepened and turned gravely in a way she hadn’t been prepared for.

She reached up, pressing her thumb to his bottom lip, swiping along the length of it. Her thumbnail traced the edge. Michael braved the chance to glance up at him, her breath catching when her eyes locked on his.

_ Ash._

And that was about the sum of it. Whatever he had been through, and whatever he still needed to do, the man she had known was still clearly there in the depths of those clear brown eyes. As much as a part of her wanted the fact that he was as much Klingon as he was human to matter, to be a reason to shut him off from her, it didn’t and she couldn’t. This man here was still Ash.

She dropped her hand from his mouth to the top of his chest, tangling her fingers in the smattering of chest hair there. 

“An isik for your thoughts?”

She smiled as his words brought her out of her thoughts and shook her head. He gave her a small one of his own in return. He looked almost shy. It brought her back to their first kiss. The two of them on the small couch in his quarters.

_ The more things change… _

“Would you believe me if I told you they were all too scattered to make any sense?”

“I might.” His hand clasped around the one at his chest and he threaded his fingers with hers. “When are you expected back?”

“Rendezvous tomorrow afternoon.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Stay the night.”

“I shouldn’t.”

He folded their joint fingers over, holding their hands tightly to him. “Stay. We should talk some more.  _ I _ should talk some more.”

“Ash.”

“Michael, I was wrong about so much. I’d like the chance to tell you about some of it.” He let go and circled his hand around her wrist. Slowly, one of his fingers looped around the skin there, then drew the rope she wore between his thumb and forefinger. “I owe you that much.”

She nodded. She knew she shouldn’t. She should go, should stick to her plan. But a not insignificant, and selfish, part of her wanted to stay. Nothing they could say to one another would change the facts in front of them -- that she would return to Discovery tomorrow afternoon, that he was needed back on Qo'noS. That their futures still looked different, if not in the way she had anticipated.

“I’ll stay,” she whispered, snaking her hand around the back of his neck and pulling him toward her. “I’ll stay.”


End file.
